


Jack Of All Trades

by angel_with_a_scythe



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blood, Established Relationship, M/M, Nightmares, Post Traumatic Stress, Violence, brujay - Freeform, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 14:37:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6524224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_with_a_scythe/pseuds/angel_with_a_scythe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous Request: Jason has a nightmare, and Bruce is the only one there to comfort him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jack Of All Trades

**Title:**   _Jack of all Trades_  
**Word Count:**  766  
**Characters/Pairings:** Bruce/Jason, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, The Joker  
**Rating/Warnings:**  PG-13 for dark themes, violence, blood  
**Notes/Summary:**  Request from Anon! Jason has a nightmare and Bruce must comfort! I really enjoyed writing this little morsel (what does that say about me? Ugh) and with that, I hope that you enjoy reading it!

~

Deep, searing pain: the kind that blinded him from the shock and rippled through every muscle. Each blow that landed made him just a little more numb, nerves damaged, severed, killed on impact. After a while, it was only the blood pooling beneath him that let him know he was still getting hit, or the coppery taste that kept filling his mouth, or the sight of the black metal coming down over and over again. It was as if time had slowed, allowing him to peer through swollen lids to watch his own body beaten and kicked around the hard cement floor.

There was so much blood. 

He hadn’t known when it had stopped, but the fire that seared his skin and reignited his pain receptors told him he was dying. In the leaping flames and crumbling debris, he swore he could see The Joker’s face laughing at him, could hear it in the crackle of the wood, could feel it reverberating through his wounds. The twisted, laughing smile curled around his blackening vision until he could no longer keep his eyes open, but he felt something lift him, saw his body in someone’s arms… someone he loved. 

The ground opened up beneath him and his body was falling into the pit, flopping like a lifeless doll into damp, gritty soil. He sputtered and coughed, dirt falling onto his face by the shovel-full. 

“No!” 

He screamed, desperately trying to will his arms to move so he could claw his way out of the grave, but the dirt kept falling, weighing him down until it felt like his bones would break all over again. 

“I’m alive!” 

He shrieked and howled at the top of his lungs, begging Batman to see that he was still alive. 

“Stop!” 

“JASON!” 

With a jolt, Jason was up, eyes wide and searching—where was he?—and his heart pounding in his sweat-drenched chest. He clawed at the blankets, as if to make sure it wasn’t the dirt that had just been covering him moments before in his dream. He swallowed hard, lifting his hands to his face, pushing his palms into his sockets to press the images out of his mind as he gasped for air. A gentle hand touched his shoulder, but he recoiled and turned, slapping the hand and pushing away from Bruce. 

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed, raking his fingers through his soaked hair, pulling hard on the locks as he curled in on himself. 

“Jason…” 

“Just shut up.” Why did this always happen? He rarely had night terrors, but it seemed that when he was with Bruce all of his insecurities rose to the surface and festered in his subconscious until weird, abstract dreams pierced through his defenses and reminded him of everything he wished he could forget. 

A strong hand wrapped around his bicep and pulled Jason back across the huge bed. 

“It was just a dream.” 

No, it wasn’t. It was reality, and he had to relive it every moment he was with this man. Either he lived life with a gaping hole, never satisfied or fulfilled without Bruce, or he lived it in pain, frustration and sweet misery _with_ Bruce. 

It was the jack of all trades, really. 

He sagged, exhausted, into that broad, scarred chest. He hated appearing weak in that moment, unable to fight back or make a smart remark to diffuse the situation and put the millionaire at a distance. But that was the farthest thing from his mind at the moment… He could still hear the laugh echoing in his mind, even as he squeezed his eyes shut against the splitting sound and grit his teeth so hard he thought they may shatter. 

And then a soft pair of lips rested against the top of his head, a simple gesture that was not a kiss or an act of pity… just comforting. He felt like a child again for the second time that night, but this time he calmed, a deep exhale deflating his body. Their position was actually quite uncomfortable, but he couldn’t care in that instant, letting half lidded eyes stare at the wall until everything was blurry like his mind. He could feel the awkwardness and helplessness radiating from Bruce, and it actually made him smirk lazily in amusement; Any sign of affection and suddenly the world’s greatest detective was reduced to a mere mortal, with human emotion and deep seeded fear. 

He was ready to make that smart remark now, but his lips refused to move for dread of Bruce separating from him. 

Maybe, eventually, it wouldn’t have to be a choice between pain and emptiness anymore.

 ~

 **Author Note:**  Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you liked it, and feel free to send me BruJay requests at any time.


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